


Prince's Duty

by chooken



Category: Cinderella (1950), Disney Animated Fandoms, Sleeping Beauty (1959)
Genre: Anal Sex, Engagement, First Time, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Responsibility, Secrets, Water Sex, talking to yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phillip runs from his responsibilities and his secrets, never thinking where he might be running to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince's Duty

He knew he was far away from his kingdom, and had known it for quite some time. It had been long hours since the dappled green of his home forest had turned to spiny fields and beaten paths under his horse’s hooves, then to woodland again, of the deep and dark sort, the kind that spoke of witches and devils, and cottages made of poisoned gingerbread.

He had slept there, exhausted under a sprawling oak tree that blocked out the stars that twinkled down like a memory he didn’t want to see. Slumbered beneath his cloak until he forgot his title and responsibilities, so far away now, behind looming walls.

And when he woke, tired and satisfied, with only the clothes on his back, he relished the dewy grass beneath him and the creaking branches overhead, now less foreboding than they had been in the dusk. For here he was certainly not a prince, and barely a Phillip. After all, Phillip was a name people bowed to, and here there was no-one to bow but a smelly, snoring horse with occasional attitude problems. But a Phillip he was, and for a short time he would remain so, until inevitability once again turned him back to home.

How far had he come? Looking at his surroundings proved that his whereabouts were not exactly certain, and rather than a flash of panic at the idea that he might be lost, Phillip welcomed the cold uneasiness Lost was not something a prince ever was. Not with gossips and watchers circling him like vultures, and his father constantly at his heels. Marriage and children and marriage and children and oh Phillip, you will be a king someday and isn’t it time to settle down and maybe provide yourself an heir? He was a hunted fox, bleeding and stumbling and waiting for the barking dogs to fall upon him.

But here there was no barking. Just the silence of the forest, and the warble of birds.

He hadn’t realised he had been holding his breath until he let it out, feeling the tension bleed from his bones, and it took Samson nuzzling his face to realise that his cheeks were wet… both from the horse’s morning breath and from his own tears.

“Well, Phillip,” he said to himself, his voice ringing loudly and authoritatively in the silence, “your behaviour does not befit a prince.” And then he laughed, laughed until his lungs were sore and Samson was bored of the prince’s insanity and was enjoying a nearby clump of grass. He realised he was hungry too, and there the two travellers stood for a long time, the prince enjoying a piece of salted meat packed in the small bag he had barely remembered to bring in his urgency to get away.

And when he was done, he found a stream which led to a lake, and there he shucked off his clothes, throwing them carelessly over a branch. The water was cold and clear, and Phillip threw himself in without hesitation, laughing at the way fish scattered from his naked splash.

“Where do you think we are, Samson dear boy?” The horse looked up as his master floated past, naked body bared to the sky. Phillip watched him snort, then return to drinking at the edge of the lake. He laughed to himself, looking down at his nudity. “I promise it’s the cold, Samson. Otherwise I would match you for size.” Laughing, he turned over and dived deep in the water, opening his eyes to watch small minnows shimmer by. He came up gasping. “We could be in another kingdom, dear friend, or a no-man’s land, which sounds even better. People should never come here. It is too beautiful. Except for myself of course. But if there is another kingdom, I hope it is not too close, lest someone catch me in this condition. I should like to be a little warmer, should someone see me.” He paused in his ramblings, liking this ability to speak without being constantly heard. A little silliness was something he could use more often.

“But do you think I’m silly? And what is silly to a horse? Perhaps there is an impolite way to eat hay, or a word you mustn’t whinny in polite company? Is there a fashionable way to wear your mane and tail? Perhaps to you I am being perfectly normal. For a prince anyway. Though normal for a prince seems to be doing what everyone else tells you to do. What point is being royalty, son, if you must be under the rule of everyone else? And I am hardly normal, regardless, or I would be eyeing scullery maids instead of the stable hand.”

He breathed in deep, scanning the banks in case someone had heard apart from himself. It was a curious thing to hear from his own lips, as he had never admitted such to himself, and had never intended to. And even here, away from listening ears, he couldn’t help but feel a criminal, and Samson his executioner. He sank beneath the cool water again, his own tormented thoughts having finally caught up with him.

“But you see Samson…” he was already formulating his latest defence when he surfaced again, but was stopped short by the sudden absence of old white, tall and hairy on the opposite bank. He spun in the water, looking around, and thrust his hands automatically over his private parts when he caught eyes appraising him.

“Samson is his name?” A young man smiled back at him, the carrot in his hand disappearing as he spoke. Samson grinned guiltily at his master, and Phillip hid a laugh. His faithful steed nibbling another’s carrot? Oh the betrayal!

“Biblical.” Phillip nodded. “And I believe you have interrupted my bath, sir. You have found me at a disadvantage.”

“One you have inflicted upon yourself, no doubt. For no-one wrested your clothes from you.”

“They may have. I am in unfamiliar land, after all, and am naïve in the ways of these woods. There may have been sprites, taking advantage of a traveller.”

“Sprites, you say? It was not bright to hide in the water, then. They tend to be in cahoots with the water nymphs, and you know how they like a naked gentlemen.” Phillip laughed, ducking lower in the water, increasingly aware of his own nudity. “You are naked, I assume?”

“More and more with every moment.” The water was almost up to his neck now. “Am I close to public domain sir? More folk strolling past would be unwelcome at this moment.”

“No, my friend, you are far. I happen to be taking an extra long walk. You are as far from civilisation as I have managed to get. Not far enough for me, but for your purposes it shall suffice.”

“And how far would you like to be?”

“This is fine for now.” The young man sat down on a log at the edge of the water, his brown hair falling over his face while he tugged at his boots. “I was considering a swim, anyway. The day is hot, after all.”

”And the water is cold.” Phillip grimaced, feeling the length beneath his hand beginning to negate the icy water. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks. The stranger tugged his shirt over his head and began to fumble with his belt, his feet sinking into the soft ground. Phillip watched toes wiggle in the dirt, and felt his blush worsen. “And your name sir? If we are to get so familiar, I would prefer a different kind of familiarity first.”

“How familiar are you expecting?” The stranger’s smile made Phillip feel hot all over, his eyes burning a hole into Phillip’s very soul. He could not reply. The stranger didn’t make him. “I would prefer not to say, lest it put me in an awkward situation I am not charming enough to wriggle out of.”

Phillip watched him wriggle out of his pants, and caught barely a glimpse of flesh before the stranger cannonballed into the water, sending up a drenching splash that made him shout in indignation.

Dark hair rose from the water, followed by sparkling eyes and an impish grin. “Though I am nothing, if not charming.”

“Charming it shall be then.” Prince Phillip backed away in the water as the man swam close enough for the pressure of treaded water to buffet his legs. “And I shall be Phillip to you. It seems rude for you to know my horse’s name, but not mine.”

“I am rude because I won’t give you my name?”

“You don’t have a horse to introduce to me, and besides, in my experience names are better in their absence, as are titles.”

“You must have a title, to think in that way. Though why someone with such a high title would be this deep in the woods and this far away from home…” Phillip watched him smile a rueful smile and back away in the water a little. “…well, I suppose that refers more to me than you.”

“You would be surprised.” Phillip ducked beneath the water to avoid following that with an explanation, and swam deep, surfacing on the other side of the lake beneath the shade of a tree. Charming waved at him.

“Ahoy!”

“Ahoy to you!” Phillip laughed as the man swam over, his body cutting a swathe through the water, arms stroking powerfully. He dove, his firm bottom sticking up in the air like a duck before his legs followed, disappearing almost without a splash.

Phillip kicked uncertainly in the water for long moments, wondering where Charming had swum to. He watched the ripples disperse, the water becoming flat again, and shivered in the shade of the tree, feeling goosebumps prick his skin and the beginning of panic constrict his throat. He crossed his hands across his half-engorged shaft again, wondering just how well Charming could see underwater.

A gasping, laughing flurry of movement burst out the water inches from his face, dripping hair hiding squinted eyes.

“Did I spook you?”

“You are not nearly as good a prankster as a charmer,” Phillip lied, jumping when he felt a floating branch bump his back. He lurched forward, feeling warm arms encircle him, and knees bump his. “Excuse me,” he fumbled, his hands catching Charming’s waist, intending to push away from the awkward advance. But they couldn’t somehow, and he looked away, feeling shame cross his features.

“I have seen all I need to.” Charming said, his voice even, and Phillip felt condemnation leak into his every pore. “This is utterly improper.”

“Excuse me.” Phillip said again, managing to extricate himself this time, pushing himself further back into the shadows and feeling the stranger follow him. Maybe he would be drowned in a fit of anger. He supposed that might be ideal. Better than returning home with the knowledge of his transgressions. If he was going to hell, it might as well be now.

Strong hands clutched his upper arms beneath the water, and Phillip readied himself for the flood of water he would let enter his lungs. He wondered if it would hurt, the water rushing over his lips and dragging him down…

Soft lips caressed his, and he opened the eyes he didn’t realised he had closed, jolting away in shock, and feeling a tear crawl down his face, stark and salty among the droplets of fresh river water. Charming quirked nervous lips at him.

“It’s awfully secluded out here,” he said quietly.

Phillip nodded back, allowing another kiss to drop onto his stuttering lips, and another, his mouth slowly returning to the favour, and feeling his feet touch the roots of the tree, letting him stand shakily, his shoulders protruding from the lake. Charming stood too, pushing closer, his body shockingly hot in the icy water but still making him shiver.

“I… I can’t,” Phillip whispered. “I am betrothed. I have responsibilities.”

“Yes, prince. You are a prince, aren’t you? A lordling, I thought, but only a prince could be so restrained.” Phillips nodding face was kissed, his waist branded by embracing arms. “Then we know each other’s pain,” Charming added, pushing his crotch against Phillips and making him shudder, his whole body singing with disbelief. “But before this makes an heir, it will have its fun. I think that’s fair.” Lips suckled Phillips ear, making him swoon, then gasp when teeth sunk into his lobe. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Phillip murmured back, feeling lust overcome him and buckle his knees. The feeling of hot breath on his neck and hard flesh against his had him rising urgently to meet it, and he clutched tight at his prince, trying to hold back his need. “I need…”

“As do I.” A hand grasped his shaft, pulling firmly upwards, and Phillip cried out, trying to muffle his voice on Charming’s shoulder. “This has been building a long time?”

“Since forever.” Phillip groaned, wanting to savour it longer. “I’ve never thought…”

“You’ve done enough thinking for the both of us, I think. It’s the doing that has eluded you.”

“Yes…” Phillip moaned around the tongue that slipped into his mouth, thrusting helplessly forward into the pumping grip. His mouth was being plundered as much as his body. Every nerve screamed for release, and every thought tried to push against it, wanting to savour every moment of this touch. His arms wrapped helplessly around Charming’s shoulders, his body hanging from the man’s like a child. Their mouths parted long enough for Phillip to shout with pleasure as another hand slipped between his legs, a knuckle pressing up into sensitive flesh. Charming was overwhelming him – his scent, his touch, his taste. Teeth bit into his neck and it was all too much. He released himself, feeling the trees shake with the sounds of his delight.

His senses returned to him with the rush of water that entered his mouth, and he gasped out a laugh when he realised he’d slipped off the meagre foothold of the tree’s roots. Charming caught him, trying to tug him up but losing his own footing and slipping with a yelp under the water.

They swam closer to shore, finding a spot where they could both stand, Phillip feeling sand sift between his toes and water lap his chest. Charming had the high ground, and the sun glittered on his wet chest. Phillip pulled him close, feeling the insistent erection butt his groin.

“What can I do for you?” Phillip murmured, feeling at a disadvantage and glad that kisses seemed to be universal regardless of gender. And oh, Charming was good at kissing, much better than the girls he had lain with, presented to him by his father with promises of making him a man. Charming’s kisses were delicious and heady, like too much wine.

Charming kissed him back, his mouth seeming to make patterns on Phillips lips, caressing him like a wisp before moving away. Phillip groaned.

“Your beauty is enough, but I won’t decline something less… visual.” Charming’s hands were on him, then, turning him, and Phillip felt his face redden when blunt insistence prodded.

Outrage flooded him, his biblical upbringing not just influencing the naming of his horse. This was pure deviancy, was it not? But Charming’s hands were warm, and the kisses fluttering the back of his neck were deviant enough. His stomach twisted with unease.

“Let me take you, my beautiful Phillip.” Hot breath rushed over his ear, better, almost, than the words they carried. “Let me feel you feeling me. Your body…” Hands rushed up his chest and then down again, alighting on the part of him that was hardening again. “It will hurt only for a moment, and then…” That hard length lay along the gap between his buttocks now, feeling awfully large and exciting. “I will be gentle.”

“Oh, please…” Phillip moaned, despite himself. “Before I realise what I’m doing.”

“Nothing wrong,” Charming murmured. “No-one will see you, nor judge you. I will make you feel so good not even god could deny you.” Kisses descended down his back, breaking apart the bare remaining shreds of resolve Phillip carried. His back pressed against Charming’s muscled stomach, his own body betraying him now.

“You are a devil.”

Charming did not disagree. Instead, he pressed fingers against what Phillip had never thought of as more than an exit. He groaned out loud, his whole body burning for more. One blunt finger pressed harder, and before Phillip knew it he was being violated, his mind and body once again battling for purchase beneath the tide of his emotions.

It hurt… a different kind of hurt than a cut or a sting…. Something more intimate and deep. Charming groaned against the back of his neck, adding another finger and eliciting another moan from Phillip, who pushed back without meaning to.

“Tight.”

“Yes,” Phillip agreed.

“Does it hurt you?”

Phillip shook his head. It did, but it didn’t, and he was so confused he didn’t know the difference. “More. Please, more…”

“A prince never begs,” Charming’s laugh was shaky, and Phillip felt the lust there burn through the air. He half expected the water to steam around them.

“A prince never does many things,” Phillip forced out. “But for now I am not a prince.”

“And neither am I,” Charming moaned, adding another finger and twisting them. He brushed something inside, something so utterly consuming Phillip couldn’t help but cry out. A cloud of birds launched themselves into the air above them. Charming moaned again. “You make my blood rage, my beautiful Phillip. I have never felt…”

“Nor I.” Phillip didn’t wish to hear it. It reminded him too well of the journey home, the long distance to travel, every step putting him further from this place. “And I don’t want to think of never feeling this again.”

“Nor I.” Charming echoed, removing his fingers. “I want only to think of what is to come.” Sharp teeth bit into Phillip’s shoulder, making him cry out. “Feel me, my love. Are you ready?”

“Don’t make a prince beg.”

“That wouldn’t do at all.” Charming shifted behind him, and hands encircled his waist, their bodies pushing so perfectly together. Hands burned into him, his head lolling back onto broad shoulders. A kiss fell on his mouth as his bottom was nudged, and then… oh…

“Oh…”

“Oh…” Charming echoed him. “Oh… _yes-ah-yes-ah_...” The arms around his waist tightened, almost cutting off his air, the pressure inside him way too much for a man to take. But take it he did, his body hungry despite the faint agony he felt. His head rocked back on those broad shoulders, mouth opening in a cry that mingled with Charming’s.

There was nothing then but crying and moaning, thrusting and begging. Phillip didn’t know who was saying what, or who was feeling what, as he was sure they had become one person. One sweating, moaning, thrusting, crying, groaning, begging mass of arms and legs, cocks and mouths. Teeth and tongue scraped mindlessly over his back, seemingly everywhere, a hand alighting on him and tugging awkwardly, clumsy in pleasure. And then… oh…

“Nnnn…” Charming moaned, his hand tightening and making Phillip buck hard enough to hurt. Phillip’s name was almost nonsense in the strangled cry that came next; a noise that Phillip had to echo, feeling heat and wetness flood him, his own cock surging under the relentless pressure.

He fell forward into the water, the arms around his waist the only thing stopping him from drowning as they both stumbled backward to where they could sit, their heads just above water, Phillip still spitted on Charming’s shaft and gasping for air.

“Phillip…”

Phillip couldn’t reply, for fear he would burst into tears if he tried. He lifted his hips, groaning at the feeling of Charming leaving him empty, and turned around, nuzzling into the throat of his new lover.

“Never like that…” Charming whispered, his voice laboured, and Phillip thought he might not be the only one about to cry. So they cried together, kissing through salty tears, until Samson sunk his head into the water nearby for a post-show drink. Phillip laughed, despite himself.

“I am enamoured of you, I think.”

“Love at first sight is for princesses with enchanting voices and gowns,” Charming replied, nuzzling Phillips throat. “For theatrical searches of women with the right sized foot and dreams of royalty. It is a necessity.”

“Then what is this?” Phillip replied, letting the odd comment of feet and searches slide. “If not love at first sight?”

“This is something far more important.” Charming sighed. “I am married, you know.”

Phillip tried not to feel jealous. Anything more than the executioner’s axe was ambitious, after all. There was no future. “Responsibility, is it?”

“You will know it well, in time,” Charming replied. “Betrothed, is it?”

“A girl I have never met.”

“Things have a way of falling into place. You will be enchanted, and you will love her, but only because that’s the way the story makes sense.”

“Story?”

“There is always a story for us. Marriage, children, ruled fair and well, happily ever after. There’s no room in the story for this sort of transgression.”

“No, I suppose not.” Phillip smiled despite his tears. “But there are always footnotes.”

“There are, and perhaps there will be more than one involving the two of us. But we will never be the plot. That’s for other people to decide. We are but characters, my beautiful prince. Pieces in a chess game. But I will love you nonetheless, and yearn for your touch when we are apart.”

“And I will do the same.”

“Then that is more than we can hope for.”

Charming stood, reaching out a hand to Phillip, who stood nakedly beside him without embarrassment.

They kissed, and saddled Samson, and parted. Long hours passed, until dark woodland turned to spiny fields, then to the dappled forests of home, and as Phillip entered a clearing, he heard singing – a wood sprite, perhaps, or an enchantress – and felt the story begin to tug at his cloak.

Smiling, he turned towards it, still feeling hot kisses against the back of his neck.


End file.
